Robin Landseadel <robinlandseadel at comcast.net> wrote:
> Just to throw a useless curve ball,
waittaminit, you think nobody on the list will even swing atit?
I know I was flat out preoccupewed (Rev Spooner: this pie is preoccupewed...
and then did you hear about the piano tuner named Oppernokity?)
with the seminal "boner" sequence, and then before that was deep into
a legal-Oneirine-analogue bender...and then before that had sore gum
syndrome (into pancakes make it! btw, the only thing that nips my
sinus infections in the bud is shiitake mushroom extract...haven't
found the thing yet that'll help my sinus inflections, though...) and
before that...
but if I'm not mistaken, there is at least one (sorghum) batter who'll
risk a wiff here...
>note that Debussy's unavoidable "Clair
> de Lune" is the the third movement of Debussy's "Suite Bergamasque."
are you saying that tune is the one behind the lyric here?
> Moonlight becomes you, it goes with your hair
> You certainly know the right thing to wear
> Moonlight becomes you, I'm thrilled at the sight
> And I could get so romantic tonight
>
> You're all dressed up to go dreaming
> Now don't tell me I'm wrong
>
> And what a night to go dreaming
>
> Mind if I tag along
>
> If I say, "I love you"
> I want you to know
> It's not just because there's moonlight
> Although, moonlight becomes you so
>
> You're all dressed up to go dreaming
> Now don't tell me I'm wrong
> And what a night to go dreaming
> Mind if I tag along
>
> If I say, "I love you"
> I want you to know
> It's not just because there's moonlight
> Although, moonlight becomes you so
hmmm, Clair de Lune, Debussy's nutty girlfriend Claire...
> My dad mostly went for Camel straights, later attempted Parliaments for less
> tar and nicotine. In the supermarkets, in the carpet stores where he worked,
> just about everywhere smoke could stick to the walls.
>
I think that was Jerry Garcia's smoke of choice as well, the Camels.
Mr Natke, a neighbor 2 doors down when I was growing up, smoked
Parliaments. They actually had a woodpile and even an ashcan in the
backyard for burning leaves, and we used to play cigarette tag and,
later, touch football in their backyard, and sometimes even in the
front yard. The suburban equivalent of stoopball, probably, is
curbball, which we played on the curbs of our cul-de-sac, which we
called a "court".
Looooooved the smell of burning leaves in the autumn! He always
drove a Cadillac, and was one of the partners in Peterson Glass, a
glass company (obviously) - not a huge one, we weren't a like
filthyrich suburb, but not bad...on the other side we had the Brauns,
he was a union electrician and he smoked, I think he and Mrs Braun
both smoked Kents (dadalada, the taste of Kents, dadala doo, the taste
of Kents, dadaladee, the taste of Kents: more taste, fine tobacco!
duh duh dadala daaaah!)
The Wattses moved out some time after she broke her hip trying to ride
the Natke twins's skateboard at a party (1 door down on the Natke side
- that house was a construction site, of course, before the Wattses,
and there was this deep inviting basement hole that I was warned
against and, geez what an unadventurous kid, don't think I ever went
down in except, well, maybe once or twice...) and Mr and Mrs Strapek
moved in, she was hearing-impaired, they had no kids, and he was a
trumpet player, played gigs at the Renaissance Center in Detroit.
Probably also a music teacher at a school, even then even a darn good
trumpet player did better with a day job, o tempora, o mores...
Mr Luckart, 3 doors down on the Natke side, was a sales manager for
Burroughs, so he was helping to make the money for William Burroughs's
trust fund (Burroughs, as we all know, was a remittance man: during
his youth and young manhood, he got a small stipend - maybe 200 a
month? - from his family for staying out of town): he didn't smoke but
drank like a fish...Mrs Luckart did, though, but I don't remember
which brand. He would sometimes call up our house when I was
practicing trumpet in the basement, and pretend to complain about the
noise - we were a friendly court...
my mom assured me the other day, when I asked her, that he was indeed joking...
They moved to Fairfax Virginia in 1969 and we went to visit them in
the very early spring of 1970, stayed there a few days and went to
Washington DC, walked on the mall (there might even have been a
protest going on, but not a huge one, a lot of them in those days...)
and, well, maybe little else, I was 14 and like herding cats to try
family stuff with. I dossed in the basement on a comfy sleeper sofa
with their son Skip (not on the same sofa, this was a nice split-level
with a bedroom in the basement for him), who'd just come back from the
Army where they'd sent him to Germany, and who supplied me with these
indescribably delicious long Marlboros ("you get a lot to like, with a
Marlboro, filter, flavor, pack or box" - and then, the theme from
Magnificent 7, "da-da, da-da-da-daaaaaaaaa", not to mention the
Winston theme which the kids at school made fun of: "Winston tastes
bad, like the one I just had, no filter, no flavor, just a roll of
toi-oilet paper...that's already been used.....") in the
white-with-a-gold-stripe (right? hmmmm tryin' to visualize) package,
because my folks stayed upstairs with Bobbie and Jack (Mr and Mrs to
me, when (rarely) I addressed them - actually I doubt they'd have
minded the first name bit) - they always loosened up their
semi-totaling ways around Bobby and Jack...there was the summer of
Cointreau, and the summer of Brandy Alexanders...
My sister and his sister came down and I watched "Love American Style"
with them. Skip and I watched a Bob Hope USO show with Gladys Knight
and the Pips, and he was telling me about how he had gone to a USO
show over there and the singer sang "The Name Game" so a bunch of guys
hollered out, "Chuck" but she was ready for them and did it with
"Charlie"...
My dad didn't smoke cigs but a pipe which he gave up in 1970. He used
to get metal humidors full of Holiday tobacco. His mom was a
Baptist, took the pledge as a girl and never broke it. His dad smoked
before they got married, and his Uncle Rob used to roll cigarettes in
the Model T...Grandpa Gilpin smoked Luckys till his heart attack in
1968, and Grandma Gilpin preferred Chesterfields up till her first
heart attack, some "light" brand till her second, and nothing
thereafter...but the smell of tobacco smoke is twined (like the
woodbine) around many of my best childhood memories...